


Hidden and Seeking

by kathrynthegreat



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-10
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathrynthegreat/pseuds/kathrynthegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was probably not a good idea to challenge a killer, but she already <em>had</em>. She was here and had survived. So far...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden and Seeking

For awhile, jumping from ridiculous heights and cutting off digits was enough for her. But as time went on, Claire's curiosity and need to test her ability continued to grow. The pain was always temporary, while the euphoria of surviving continued to build with each new feat.   
   
Before long she was running out of ideas of ways to kill herself. She had long ago run out of willing partners. Zach was back in Texas, probably mind-wiped by the Haitian, with no memory of her at all. West had disappeared after their last confrontation, and her pride kept her from calling him. He had either run away from home or moved away. She never saw him again. Lyle had helped for awhile, running the camera for her when she poured boiling water on herself, making up wild stories for why the medicine cabinet was suddenly empty. Her brother drew the line at watching her hang herself, though. Apparently even fourteen-year-olds had their limits.  
   
It was sad, really. She was just realizing her body's potential when she found herself without a partner in crime. She didn't want to stop pushing the boundaries, testing her limits. She had to go on.  
   
Claire continued for a few weeks alone, but she missed sharing the details and excitement with someone else. It was a no-win situation. Her father forbade her from telling anyone else about her regenerative powers. She wasn't close to anyone besides her own family, and she had given up on making friends at school.   
   
The plan came to her in a rush the day she tried to drown herself in the ocean. Lack of oxygen cleared her mind as the waves broke again and again over her head. The salt water stung her eyes and throat while the white sand rubbed her skin raw. It was then that she said the name quietly to herself. Sylar. He was the answer.  
   
~*~  
   
Finding a psychopathic serial killer on the run was easier than she thought. Her father no longer hid his computer files or communications from The Company. If he'd known what his daughter was doing with the information she was stealing from him, he would have put a stop to it. She knew Sylar's location within a week of searching and had a plan in place almost immediately.   
   
He was holed up in an abandoned state hospital in rural Connecticut. Claire began to drop hints at the dinner table, how much she missed Nathan and Peter and that she wanted to get to know her grandmother. Her parents were resistant at first, but with summer break coming up, she was able to persuade them. Being on the honor roll didn't hurt either. When it came right down to it, they couldn't say no.    
   
With her bags packed and her ticket bought, she felt less edgy and happier than in months past. She didn't know if she was heading toward her future or certain death, but it felt good to be moving toward something. Anything.  
   
~*~  
 

New York was unbearably hot, the air so thick she had to take gulps to breathe. She checked over her maps and notes again before catching a cab to the train station. In less than three hours she would find Sylar in his hiding place and do the unthinkable. She wasn't sure if the shiver she felt was from the air conditioning in the cab, or a sudden trill of fear. Either way, there was no going back now.

   
The train ride proved uneventful and boring. Claire went over what she would say to him again and again in her head.  
   
_Hi, I'm Claire. Remember when you tried to kill me? Well I've got this insane idea you might help me..._  
   
Everything came out sounding stupid. He was going to laugh at her. And then cut her head open and end her life. She was foolish to think this could work. She had almost convinced herself to turn around and go home or, worse, show up on the Petrellis' doorstep unannounced when the train pulled into the station and ground to a stop.   
   
It was twilight and the air had cooled considerably by the time she stepped on the platform. Claire took a deep breath to settle her nerves and asked the train attendant for directions to the town marked on her map. She decided to catch a bus a few blocks from the station instead of a cab. Less chance of the driver remembering her and her exact destination.   
   
Finally she stood outside the long abandoned Norwich Hospital for the Insane. It looked even scarier than it sounded, especially at dusk on a lonely highway further from home than Claire had ever been. Crickets chirped in a deafening cacophony from the woods that surrounded the buildings. Directly in front of her stood the Salmon Building, which had served as administration years ago when the mental hospital was operational. Abandoned for eleven years, time had yet to take its toll on the sheer size and grandeur of the edifice.   
   
She took a deep breath and swallowed, making a thick clicking noise in her throat. It was now or never. If she wanted to find him before full dark, she had to start looking now. With only a momentary hesitation, she climbed the steps to the entrance. This building looked well maintained and the most likely place for someone to hide out, and she had to start somewhere. The heavy wood and steel doors looked impassable, but she pulled on the handle of the left one just to be sure. Surprisingly, the door swung outward with little effort. It creaked slightly but stayed open, letting the dim summer light filter through the dust motes in the front entrance.   
   
Claire took a step inside, followed by another and then another until she was standing at the foot of a double stairway in the hospital's main entrance. There were no windows where she was standing, but she could see weak daylight penetrating the gloom at the top of the stairs. She used the center rail to steady herself and slowly climbed the stairs. The air was thick with dust and grime from lack of air flow. It was silent as a tomb, she felt like her steps were loud explosions in the fast approaching dark. The only sound was her quick intakes of breath as she reached the next floor and paused to find her bearings.   
   
The boom of the door slamming shut reverberated up the stairs, scaring Claire into whimpering as she spun to look behind her.   
   
"It was the door. Just the door. Get a GRIP!" Talking to herself calmed her nerves somewhat, and she was able to breathe normally within a few seconds. She turned left and found herself in a dark paneled corridor. Thanking God that she came prepared, she reached for the small Mag light clipped to her bag. The small beam of light was reassuring, giving her a much needed boost of confidence.   
   
She walked deeper into the building, listening to the soft tread of her sneakers on the plaster strewn floor. Other than her own careful steps and thundering heartbeat, the silence was complete. The blackness of night slowly surrounded her as she explored the rooms. Even where there were windows, only the dimmest glow of the moon penetrated the thick dark.   
   
Finally Claire came upon a large room which was possibly a sitting room in its former life. On one side stood a huge, ornate, green-tiled fireplace; it took up most of the wall. She stopped to shine her flashlight on it, running her fingers across the twin trees depicted on its smooth surface. This room was different from the others. Someone had swept it clean, and it had a distinct _lived in_ feel to it. There was a row of long white tapers on the window sill, further proof of recent inhabitance.   
   
She circled the room and abruptly fell face first onto a neatly made bed she had missed in her cursory look through the room. Perched on her knees, she studied the bed and its immediate surroundings. This was where he slept. Claire almost laughed. It was almost _too_ easy, except for all the traveling to get here. Now it was a waiting game...   
   
~*~  
   
A sharp sound jolted her awake. Disoriented by her surroundings, she tried to sit up, only to realize she couldn't move. Recognition of where she was and who she was looking for came flooding back in an instant.   
   
"Sylar?" The answer came with a snap of fingers which lit the candles by the windows. He was dressed all in black and seemed to form out of the darkness itself at the foot of the bed. How could she have fallen asleep, and how long had she been out?  
   
"Someone's been sleeping in my bed…." he whispered as he cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he studied her, "and she's still here." A wolfish grin spread across his face, and Claire could see the white of his teeth as he moved close enough to lean over her.  
   
"I came to find you. I need your help with-" She felt crushing pressure on her throat for a moment before it eased enough for her to draw breath again. "Please, let me explain!"  
   
"You are a long way from home, aren't you, kitten? Oh, don't worry. I want to hear _everything_." He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair, twirling the ends around his fingers and pulling.  
   
Claire followed him with her eyes when he walked across the room. Whatever power he was using to hold her still remained constant. He moved to the window and leaned casually against the frame, looking out into the night. "I'm waiting, Claire."  
   
Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest at any moment. She was terrified of what was going to happen to her, but even more terrified of what had brought her here. This moment was hers. Live or die, she had made this choice. "Someone I loved once told me, 'The only thing you'll regret is denying who you really are,' and that I needed to embrace my 'inner freak.'" She blinked as tears began to roll down her cheeks at the thought of Zack.   
   
She took a deep breath and told him everything. How she discovered her power, her high school troubles, all of it. Her voice was strong and steady, only cracking when she talked about her family and all they had been through because of her father and the Company he was again working for. Claire even spoke of the Petrellis, her misplaced crush on an uncle and a biological father who didn't know how to act towards her. And then she told him why she was there.  
                                                                        
When she finally paused to close her mouth and catch her breath, she watched Sylar by the window. He had his back to her, his face silhouetted by dim moonlight. "Keep going, I'm listening." His back tensed and she saw his jaw clench, but he didn't look at her or say anything else.   
   
It was like some kind of witness torture; by ignoring her he was getting her to ramble on incoherently, like a murder suspect under the hot lamps of an interrogation table, cops circling in for the kill. Suddenly she didn't want to talk anymore. She felt foolish for approaching someone who for all intents and purposes was her enemy.  
   
"How did you find me?" This time he turned his head and glanced over at her before pacing to the fireplace on the other side of the room.  
   
"It was easy, really. I hacked the Company's system from my dad's computer. He doesn't hide anything from me anymore." She sounded sad to her own ears. She missed the days when she was an innocent, believing her father worked for a paper company and the most important thing in her life was making the cheerleading squad. It was a lifetime ago.  
   
When she looked for him again, he was back at the window, only facing her this time, leaning against the sill casually, like he was at a dinner party discussing politics instead of a long abandoned insane asylum about to torture a teenage girl. She hadn't seen him move from one place to another. He seemed to move in a blink of an eye, like a shadow just out of her line of sight.  
   
"I wonder why they haven't come for me yet." He sounded amused and obviously wasn't waiting for an answer from her. Good thing, too. She had no idea about the Company's machinations, only that she hated them for what they had done to her dad. "Intriguing." This time he was looking at her, his brow drawn in thought, and for the first time since entering the decrepit building she was truly scared.  
   
   
Sylar picked her up like she was little more than a rag doll and carried her down the hall, away from 'his' room. He seemed to move more like a spirit than a man. Claire couldn't hear his footsteps, and the walls and doorways sped past like they were flying. She couldn't fathom which power he'd stolen that allowed him to maneuver this way.   
   
A few minutes later he carried her through a threshold of a large bathroom. An overhead light blinked on, bathing the room in bright fluorescent light. Toilets and urinals lined the walls; in the center were rows of bathtubs. One was full of water, as if waiting for this moment. Claire tried not to wrinkle her nose at the crumbling plaster or moss growing in the corners, at least the bath water appeared clean and clear.  
   
"How about freezing, Goldilocks, ever try it?" Sylar whispered in her ear. Before she could answer, he dropped her in the water, a momentary splash surrounded them followed by the constant trickle of water overflowing the tub. Sylar was holding her down, his large hand covering her ribcage. He pushed until she felt the back of her head touch the bottom. Claire watched him through the bubbles and ripples her disturbance had caused, her hair floating all around her face like golden seaweed.   
   
Sylar put his other hand in the water, wrist deep, and grinned down at her. Ice formed from his fingers and spread in every direction, flowing ribbons of cold that wrapped frigid tendrils all around her. The temperature dropped fast after that, and she could feel gooseflesh prickle all over her skin. The ice continued to grow until she could no longer move her arms or legs, the surface of the water clouded over and her vision began to blur. The freezing water became a painful burning that Claire could not escape. As the black spots flickered in her sight, she heard a loud crack and then darkness.  
   
Claire came to in front of the monstrous fireplace and thought that two giant trees were on fire. The crackling and popping of the blaze drew her attention, and she slowly realized she was back in his room and he had lit a roaring fire. She couldn't move her limbs yet, and when she could focus her eyes she noticed that her skin was a lovely shade of blue. She was shivering and her teeth clattered together loudly in her head. Sylar entered the room then and kneeled down beside her, wrapping a rough wool blanket across her shoulders. It only made her feel colder.   
   
She tried to scoot closer to the warmth of the fire, but Sylar's hands on her arms stopped her. He shook his head but didn't speak, his expression closed and impassive. With few other options available, Claire pushed herself forward into his arms and laid her head against his chest, desperate for the heat she found there.   
   
It was then that she noticed his hands were glowing a bright orange red, and he began to circle them on her skin, jolting her with the sudden searing heat of his fingers. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat at the feel of warmth on her frozen body. He continued rubbing his hands down her arms, stopping only long enough to pull the blanket off and expose her back to his nimble fingers. Claire knew she should be worried about her state of undress.  
   
_Hey, I'm naked here, and when exactly did he take my clothes off?_  
   
But she couldn't care, not when his touch was bringing life back to her cold, numb body. "I liked your hair better when it was curly." His words seemed to come from nowhere. His voice was flat, no inflection. Just a statement. Claire giggled in shock but was able to stifle it by biting her tongue.  
   
"You throw me in a tub of water, freeze it, effectively killing me, and all you have to say is that you prefer my hair curly?" It was probably not a good idea to challenge a killer, but she already _had_. She was here and had survived. So far...  
   
He started rubbing her shoulders and trailed his fingers across her neck. "I brought you back. You saved my life, seemed only fair that I spared yours." Something dark and unidentifiable moved behind his eyes when he spoke.   
   
"How did I save your life?" She closed her eyes in bliss when he ran his hands through her hair, warming her so much she stopped shivering despite what she had just been through, and the fact that she was sitting next to him nude.  
   
The rip of a zipper sounded absurdly loud to her ears. He had one hand smoothing down her back and then settling on her hip and drawing her closer to him. "I have your blood pumping through my veins. The Company," he said the word _company_ as if he despised it as much as she did, like a bitter taste he wanted to spit out, "injected me with a virus that would have killed me."  
   
It was all too much for her to think about for the moment. She had more questions, but the way he was touching her was distracting from the conversation. The crackling of the fire and warmth provided by Sylar's hands was hypnotizing, and she watched with half closed eyes when he leaned over her and placed his mouth on hers.

_I'm in an abandoned insane asylum kissing a serial killer._  
   
Claire's life had become interesting in the last few months, but this was new, even for her. She tilted her head as his tongue parted her lips and gently explored her mouth. It felt different than West's fumbling and Brody's forcefulness. She wanted to respond, draw him in. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities the closeness of his body was representing.   
   
She reached for him then, tangling her fingers in his black hair and pressing as close to him as possible. The rough fabric of his shirt scraped against her chest, causing her to draw back and gasp into his mouth.   
   
He blinked down at her before pulling her across his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist. "Don't move." His voice sounded the same, deep and commanding, but there was a breathy catch to it now. She wanted to tell him to take off his shirt, to kiss her again, touch her more. Instead she waited for what would come next.  
   
Then he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and pulling her body closer. Waves of heat radiated from him through her skin until she felt she would melt where she sat. "Sylar?" She knew what she desired most at that moment, and finally he answered her by placing his hands on her hips and pushing up into her.  
   
~*~  
   
The next morning Claire awoke with a full bladder and a scary bad guy lying across her. They were on a rickety iron bed made up with worn white sheets. Daylight was streaming through the windows above them, bright and cheerful. She shifted until she could sit up and watched as Sylar rolled over in his sleep, his back to her, arm thrown across his eyes.  
   
She was able to find the large common bathroom from the night before with little trouble. She tried unsuccessfully not to be grossed out by the moss growing in the corners or the general dilapidated state of the fixtures and room. The bathtub that lay broken in half in the center of the room gave her pause. She blinked at it a few times before realizing that it was the one that Sylar had dropped her into before freezing all the water into a block of ice, freezing her to death.  
   
But he had brought her back, and the sudden flash of memory of their night in front of the fire flushed her cheeks before she focused on what she was doing. The water from the one working tap was cold, but she made do with what was available. The toilet even flushed. It wasn't the Ritz Carlton, but it wasn't the worst hiding place she could have imagined. She rummaged in her bag for a fresh set of clothes and brushed her hair.  
   
Her morning ablutions taken care of, she took a quick check in a cracked mirror and padded back to where she had left Sylar sleeping. He hadn't moved, and she sat on the floor cross-legged, watching his steady breathing as the sunlight warmed her back and shoulders. She didn't know what came next. Her whole plan was to find this man and plead her case. After that she had no idea. Would they run away together? It sounded ridiculously naive and foolish in her own head, let alone impossible in the real world.  
   
They had shared something last night; some strange mixture of death/life/sex that she still didn't understand, but she wanted more of it. She felt a pull to this man down deep in her unbreakable bones. She needed more. Then he woke up and reached for where she'd lain the night before.  
   
"I'm here."  
   
His pitch-colored eyes met hers across the expanse of century-old hardwood floor and compelled her to walk over to him. She reached for the black stubble on his chin and ran her fingers across his cheek as he drew her under him once again. Her clothes didn't slow him down and soon he was biting her skin hard enough to leave teeth marks. The brief flashes of pain were worth it when he slid his tongue along the fast-closing wounds.  
   
"Can I keep you?" He was rubbing his face along her abdomen, his unshaven skin scratching, his voice rumbling along her rib cage. "I want to keep you." And then he was inside her again, causing colors to swirl behind her eyelids. The bed creaked beneath them and the sheets were crumpled and thrown to the floor.  
   
Some time later he told her to go back to New York.  
   
"I'll come to you," was his whispered promise before they slept again. She woke up alone and left the crumbling asylum, memories of the sweet pull of his mouth on her breasts fresh in her mind.   
   
If he didn't come to her, she'd find him again. She had to.  
   
   
   
 

 

 


End file.
